Wheeling Gull Isle what would hope be without disappointment

She corrected him with a laugh, and Ruvik swallowed down the nervous lump in his throat that had formed, bowing his head as if humiliated by his wrong assumption. Though she denied she was a queen, she seemed every bit one to the boy, if not a slightly more fierce one than Huā.

The Jūnshí. He was reminded again that the language of the island was a curious one, though Ruvik dared not pronounce it with his untrained tongue. He was oblivious to her inspection of him, keeping his eyes intently focused on the ground, but was grateful to learn that Yuèlóng had a battalion of fighters at their disposal.

At her question, he sneaked a glance at her now reclined form, taking it as a cue to relax. However, the most Ruvik did was tentatively sit down, back arched and limbs tense as always. "Island is..." Noisy. Smelly. Windy. "...safe."

He hesitates a moment before continuing. "Ruvik th-thankful to Huā. Mainland d-dangerous."